At a time when people often turn away from street dwellers, John Cruz drew people to him without a word, without even trying.

The husky 6-footer, better known as "Mango Man," has been a gentle, enigmatic presence on the streets of Kaneohe and Kailua for decades, standing silently by the roadside with a soulful look in his eyes and matted gray hair that hung past his waist.

He is intensely private and yet he chose to live his life in public, most recently on a grassy shoulder along Hamakua Marsh, where the call of ducks mixes with the woosh of passing cars.

He would ask for nothing, yet people would bring him food or drink. He’d thank them with a twinkle in his eyes or wave them off with a weathered hand.

A couple of weeks ago, on Keolu Drive near Enchanted Lake Elementary School, an unofficial street sign went up bearing his likeness, a shaggy silhouette of a large man with a walker, a symbol of the aloha the community feels for him.

In the virtual world, an outpouring of good wishes has flooded the "My Kailua" Facebook page in tribute to Cruz and to Dr. Chad Koyanagi and Waikiki Health’s Care-A-Van, who recently joined forces to bring him much needed medical care. The post on the online community bulletin board quickly generated more than 2,700 "likes" and 772 "shares," and reached more than 100,000 people, according to Bill Hayes, an administrator of the site.

"He taught us to be kind, without saying a word," Debbie Silk posted. "God bless you John aka mango man."

Another contributor, Adrian Samu Kahawaii, remembered "as a little boy growing up in Kaneohe we would be afraid of him … until one day we said hello … super nice, mellow man … he is an iconic figure on the windward side aloha ‘Mango Man.’"

"Thank you so much for posting the update, we’ve been so worried about John," wrote Tiffany DeZee. "We had cookies in the car for several days to pass off to him. Our son was beside himself when he ‘went missing.’"

A Castle High School graduate, Cruz served in Vietnam, and he wore the same grubby camouflage jacket and blue jeans, rain or shine. At 66, he had given up his big walking stick in favor of an aluminum walker.

As his health began to fail in recent months, community members tried to reach out, even calling ambulances in hopes he would accept medical care. He would just wave them off.

"I’ve seen him around Kailua for 35 years, but it’s just in the last year that I saw him kind of going downhill and he seemed more compromised," said Cynthia Rubinstein, a Realtor who would bring lunch and eat with him, leaning against the guardrail.

"I would talk with him what little bit I could, try to get him help. But he kept saying, ‘No, no — pau, done.’ I would say, ‘No, it’s not pau.’"

Each time she left, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, undeterred by curious looks from passersby.

"I wanted to give him the feeling that we really cared about him," she said.

Hayes, the website administrator, and Rubinstein were hesitant to speak to the Honolulu Star-Advertiser about Cruz out of respect for his privacy. But they agreed to an interview to set the record straight after rumors and misinformation swirled about what had happened to "Mango Man."

And they felt obliged to highlight the work of Koya­nagi and the staff of Care-a-Van, who are on the front lines daily.

Koyanagi, a community psychiatrist, offers his healing art to the growing number of people on the streets of Honolulu who would never make their way to a psychiatrist’s office. "Dr. Chad," as he is affectionately known, spends one day a week alongside outreach workers from the Institute for Human Services, the homeless services provider, and also collaborates with Waikiki Health.

"The community has been trying to help John for a long time, and it wasn’t till Dr. Chad got involved that it tipped," Hayes said. "It was amazing to see Dr. Chad and Waikiki Health do their things."

Rubinstein had asked Hayes to check up on Cruz, and he found him under a bridge. He alerted fellow Kailua resident Malia Espinda, who has a health care background and sent Koya­nagi a text.

"We have a well-loved individual here in Kailua who seems to be having severe health issues," Espinda told the doctor in her text on April 29. "Do you know Mango Man?"

Koyanagi’s response was immediate.

"Call me," he said. "I’m not going to let anyone die out there if I can help it."

Waikiki Health’s Care-A-Van, a mobile medical unit that offers care and social services to the homeless, had assisted Cruz a few years earlier, according to Jason Espero, the outreach worker on that case and now director of the program. Cruz allowed a nurse to painstakingly tend to a badly infected leg but refused the offer of a trip to the hospital. He also waved them away whenever the van came back later to follow up.

On any given day, Care-a-Van helps half a dozen to several dozen homeless people with medical care, sustenance, links to housing or social services, or a listening ear. It also operates a drop-in clinic in Kaimuki.

"We try to do what we can to make each person’s quality of life a little bit better," Espero said. "Sometimes it does take multiple encounters, multiple years until you can say a success has occurred."

A desperate situation met the outreach team on April 30 when they arrived under the bridge. Cruz was suffering from a severe infection that had festered unchecked, Espero said.

"The consequences could have been catastrophic for him," Espero said. "Instead of writing a story about how we all helped him, you might be writing his eulogy."

This time, a chain of caring converged — nurses and the doctor, emergency medical workers, police officers, friends — at the spit of waterfront land, keeping a respectful distance.

The scene overwhelmed even the most seasoned of observers.

"It was so intense," said Hayes, who gently talked to Cruz, man to man, and stayed with him as a Care-A-Van nurse worked to cleanse his wounds. "It hit all my senses. There were HPD officers with tears in their eyes."

He added, "I come from a family of cops. You’ve got to be tough. But you could see how much the officer really cared and was deeply touched. And seeing him was enough to set me off."

Eventually, Cruz struggled to his feet and made his way to a waiting ambulance.

Asked what message he took away from the experience, Hayes said, "Don’t stop trying, don’t ever stop trying."

Cruz is being cared for in an undisclosed hospital and is expected to be there for some time. He seems content, according to a source who is in touch with him.

He has a public guardian. Asked how he is faring, a spokesman for the state Office of the Public Guardian said only: "We acknowledge everything the community has done for Mr. Cruz, and also appreciate the community respecting his privacy as he continues to recuperate."

In the past, people have offered shelter to "Mango Man," but he preferred to live outside, with the soaring Koolau mountain range as his backdrop.

"His heart seems to connect to nature, and I think that’s why this is where he hung out," Rubinstein said at the patch of land that he called home. "He’s got a real Hawaiian soul."

Koyanagi, who has made it his mission to minister to patients who are the toughest to reach, declined to discuss the situation, citing confidentiality rules. Still, the physician marveled at the heartfelt connection forged between the Windward community and this individual.

"I’ve never heard of anything like it happening anywhere in the country," Koyanagi said. "The case was outstanding in showing what common purpose and common caring for a person can achieve. Hopefully that spirit will translate to people who are not pleasant, who are not icons."